Little Moments
by Corky the Quirk
Summary: Charlie Dalton goes to an annual school dance, looking for a good time and a possible hook-up. He gets much more than he expects...


**Author's Note: **This was written for the lovely Blackbirdox; I hope she enjoys it :) I didn't really go through and proof read this, so I apologize for any errors...

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Charlie Dalton, and even if I did, I wouldn't share...

* * *

**i. i saw her standing there**

Junior year. Seventeen years old. Red lightning bolt painted to his chest. Leading his crew of manly men into the Welton-Henley annual winter dance. Charlie Dalton was on top of the world and completely invincible.

Or so he assumed.

It was as he was perusing the groups of wallflower-ish Henley students that his eyes landed on _her_.

She was absolutely stunning and beautiful and every other synonym under the sun for 'fantastically-amazingly-totally-hot'. Classy chassis.

Charlie licked his lips like a canine taking in the sight of a raw steak. Oh, he would have her. He would dance her around all night long and sweep her off her feet and she would be his and he would be hers. Well, she'd definitely be his, but Charlie wasn't so sure about being a one-woman man, not just yet. He grinned to his band of merry men, giving them a little wiggle of the eyebrows before sauntering in the direction of his lovely lady.

He approached her slowly, not wanting to scare her off, and also because from this angle he was able to take in how her curves looked in the little red dress she was donning. Yes. Red. It was a match made in heaven. Or the lust-filled equivalent of heaven. Plastering a cool smirk to his face, Charlie shoved his hands into the pockets of his brown plaid suit and cleared his throat, casually leaning against the wall behind the girl. He waited a moment before frowning when the girl didn't turn around and acknowledge his presence. He cleared his throat again, louder this time, thinking that maybe she just hadn't heard him over the band that was playing.

Once again, she took no notice of him and Charlie grimaced. She was supposed to be throwing herself at him, not ignoring him.

This time, Charlie convulsed himself into what appeared to be a full blown coughing fit, complete with gagging and hacking, drawing the attention of not only her, but of half the people at the dance as well. When Charlie noticed the eyes of the girl-in-red upon his own, he straightened up, brushing his hands over the front of his jacket to get out all the wrinkles and cleared his throat for the last time. "Oh, pardon me," he politely addressed the students that were gaping at him in confusion, waving away a glass of water that a red-headed and bespectacled girl was offering him. "Steven Meeks is somewhere over there," he informed her, grabbing her by the shoulder and turning her around before patting her on the butt and shoving her in some direction.

Charlie returned his attention to the girl he had his sights on, disappointed to see her staring out across the dance floor again. Charlie groaned and, not so smoothly, tapped her anxiously on the shoulder until she glanced over at him with a questioning look, eyebrow raised perfectly in a way that suggested she was thinking "what-is-it-you-want?"

He smacked his signature smirk onto his lips, wrapping one of his arms snuggly around her shoulder despite the disgust that was obvious on her face. Charlie figured it was just her way of trying not to jump his bones in front of the school administrators. That wouldn't end up too well. "I couldn't help but notice that you're alone, my dear," Charlie cooed to her, his smirk transforming into a grin.

The girl sighed, not even bothering to get Charlie to remove his arm from her shoulders. She'd dealt with these kinds of boys before, and it was easier to let them just get all their smug out and then wander away with a witty retort about how even though their hair is perfect, their personality is not. Going back to searching the crowded ballroom, she replied, "I couldn't help but notice that you're extremely obvious, darling."

Charlie blinked in surprise for just a moment, then began to chuckle. "You've got a smart tongue."

"I've got a smart brain," she corrected him, a smirk of her own appearing on her face.

Charlie licked his lips once again before taking her hand in his and pressing a kiss to it. "The name's Charles Dalton."

"Mallory Dexter."

**ii. dull life**

Charlie tapped the eraser-end of his pencil incessantly on the surface of his desk, his head propped up with his other hand, massaging his temple and messing up half of his perfectly styled hair. He was bogged down with homework and overloaded with extracurriculars that were mandatory at a place like Welton and in a society in which he resided. Richard Cameron was growling over at his own desk, no doubt royally pissed off and annoyed at the sound of the eraser plinking every second against the wooden desk. Charlie grinned for just a moment at that thought, before frowning once again at the pile of trigonometry problems in front of him.

"Fuck this," he grumbled, shoving back in his chair hard enough for the legs to screech across the floor, causing Cameron to jump in place and begin whining about how his concentration was ruined, yet again, by Charlie.

Charlie rolled his eyes, smacked Cameron on the back of the head, and grabbed his coat, hurrying out onto the Welton grounds, kicking at snow as he went. He sighed deeply, ignoring the sting of the sudden cold entering his lungs, and headed stealthily towards Henley. His dull afternoon was going to be terminated, he was positive.

ASTERISK

Mallory clicked the fingernails of one hand on the surface of her desk, chewing nonstop on the fingernails of the other hand. She was up to her ears in homework, although she diligently kept up to date with all assignments, and the pressure of being Class President was beginning to weigh heavily on her shoulders, what with all the responsibility and pressure placed upon such a position by the headmistress and her parents. She wasn't an _actual_ president, after all. But it seemed that way. She sighed, banging her forehead down upon the open French book on her desk, tilting her face and glaring over at her chemistry textbook. Mallory's roommate, Rina Cassidy, cleared her throat, the unofficial official sign that Mal needed to _stop drumming her fingers for fuck's sake_.

Mallory rolled her eyes, standing lithely from her seat and walking in a clipped fashion towards the door; tugging on Rina's ponytail as she passed, receiving a glare from the girl; and grabbed her coat. She trotted out into the snow, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket and wishing she had thought ahead enough to have remembered that mittens and winter go together. She was headed towards Welton. Her dull afternoon was most definitely going to be more interesting soon.

**iii. walk in the sun**

It was the first warm day of the year so far, and Charlie had his arm wrapped around Mallory's shoulders as they walked amiably down the sidewalk. He squinted his eyes and smiled up at the beautiful, cloudless blue sky. A perfect spring day. They were making their way to the diner downtown, happy to be outside in only a few layers instead of multiple coatings of fabric. Charlie sighed, shifting his gaze to Mal. "Aren't you glad you didn't continue to snub me at the dance?" he asked rhetorically, grinning and squeezing her shoulders good-naturedly.

Mal rolled her eyes up at her companion. "I'm still snubbing you, Dalton," she reminded him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Sure you are," Charlie smirked to himself.

**iv. babe i'm gonna leave you**

"We are _not_ friends!"

"Oh, come on! Don't do this!"

"This is _not_ how friends act towards each other!"

"Mal. We're friends. You're my friend, and I'm your friend."

"I don't fuck my friends!"

"That just means we're even friendlier!"

"I'm done."

Charlie cringes as the door slams.

**v. night and day**

During the day Charlie goes through his usual boring routine of attending classes and hanging around his group of close-knit friends. He seems to have lost that special twinkle in his eye, though he still keeps up the façade of being très hip. He winks and flirts and brandishes his smirk about, tossing it out like candy at a parade. But Charlie isn't really there. In his head he's thinking of the afternoons spent with Mallory, lying around and doing absolutely nothing, or absolutely everything, with each other.

During the afternoons Charlie rows and kicks around a soccer ball, playing the roll of perfect goalie, although he seems to be letting more shots get past him as the days wane on. Even Keating can see something's distracting him.

During the evening Charlie goes to study groups, struggling with the way Cameron attempts to teach him and Neil trigonometry, and helping the rest of the boys with their English assignments. When they all retire to their dorms, Charlie lays awake, staring up at the stucco ceiling, arms crossed behind his head, just thinking. Thinking all the time.

Thinking of _her_.

**vi. pumpkin soup**

Charlie knows that right now, even though he really does care about Mallory and can't get her off his mind, he wants her for the sex.

Mallory knows that right now, even though she really does care about Charlie and can't get him off her mind, she wants him for the sex.

But both of them also know that they want something more than just the sex. Which is why Mal couldn't stand only being his friend. Which is why she slammed the door in his face. Which is why Charlie is standing outside her dorm.

Rina is gone for the weekend and Charlie's lips crashing onto Mallory's as soon as she opens the door cracks her fragile resistance.

Right now it's just sex. But once they're done and resting under the covers, tangled in each other's arms, it's more.

**vii. five minutes to midnight**

Charlie waits patiently outside of Henley for Mallory to finish packing and meet him. He's leaning against the hood of his Chevelle, puffing on a cigarette and watching the smoke drift away from him in the dewy air. Summer is nearing, and neither of them wants to think about going back to their respective homes and being states away from each other. Mal in the south; Charlie in the north. Their parents don't understand teenage relationships, how much it would mean if they could just meet up with one another a few times over the three month break. Neither set of parents complies, especially when Charlie asks if he can invite Mallory along with the Dalton family to Myrtle Beach.

Charlie's head snaps up at the sound of footsteps and he drops the cigarette, stomping it into the pavement and grinning at Mallory, who's dragging a large suitcase behind her. Charlie snickers and opens the front door for her. "We're only going to be gone for the weekend," he reminds her, receiving a playful smack on the arm. She's about to slip into the car and settle into the front seat, but Charlie gently grabs her arm and pulls her against him, smirking down at her before enveloping her in a sweet kiss.

It's five minutes to midnight on Friday, and Charlie and Mallory are on their way to a hotel. Who needs supervisors during the weekend when you can forge your parents' signatures and get a weekend pass?

**viii. chains**

Charlie feels physically and mentally trapped by how much he's feeling towards Mallory. It consumes him completely and he's afraid he might just combust. It hasn't even been a week into summer and Charlie is exhausting himself with excessive bouts of soccer practice and running around his hometown in order to get his mind off of her for just one second, or he might literally explode.

It isn't until the second week of summer that Charlie realizes he just needs some other sexual release. And she comes in the form of a busty blonde lifeguard at the pool.

**ix. summer's not hot**

Mallory lazes around the entire summer, reading classics and listening to rock'n'roll music that Charlie's introduced her to. She can't help but smile as she listens to the records, knowing that it won't be long before she's able to dance around foolishly to the melodies with Charlie's arms wrapped securely around her.

It isn't until the second month of summer that Mallory realizes something is odd about the way Charlie rushes through their phone conversations.

**x. shame and fortune**

Charlie hangs his head when he meets up with Mallory for the first time in three months. He knows she knows, and she knows that he knows that she knows.

"I'm sorry," he softly mumbles, staring at the ground and reaching up to wipe at his nose with the back of his hand. It's only because he sounds so sincere and because Charlie Emerson Dalton III never, _ever_, says the word sorry that Mallory reaches out and takes his hand in hers.

"I'm still mad," she informs him, but at least it's out now.

"I missed you," Charlie confesses.

"I missed you, too."

"I shouldn't have done it."

"I should have."

Charlie smirks at Mallory's satire. "I'm glad you didn't."

"I'm glad you did."

Charlie quirks his eyebrow in confusion. "…what?"

"I know how much you really like me now."

Charlie shakes his head, correcting her: "Love."

**xi. painting flowers **

"Will you hold still?" Charlie asks with slight irritation, although he's laughing all the same, paintbrush propped in between his index and thumb. "I'm not filming you, you know."

Mallory rolls her eyes and lies back down among the tall grass and flowers. Charlie has her posed, lying down and staring up at him, as he ferociously concentrates on the canvas in front of him, tongue sticking out, beret tilted lopsidedly, cigarette smoldering in his other hand before he pops it back between his lips and picks up his pallet.

** me down**

"Camille! No!" Charlie shouts as his daughter runs around the kitchen, scissors snapping repeatedly, giggles burbling up her throat and spilling all over the house. Charlie growls to himself and sweeps her carefully up into his arms, plucking the pair of sharp cutting utensils out of her hands and sighing as he sets them on the counter.

Mallory enters the kitchen, running a hand through her hair and dragging a young boy, about six years old, behind her. "Do you know what your son was just doing?" she asked Charlie in exasperation.

Charlie quirks an eyebrow. "…chasing after girls?"

Mal rolls her eyes and scoffs. "He was throwing rocks at the neighbor's windows!"

Charlie just shrugs. "At least he wasn't running with a deadly pair of scissors."

"What?" Mal asks in confusion, staring at Charlie. He shakes his head.

"Never mind. Camille, it's time for your nap," he says matter-of-factly, bopping her on the nose and carrying her up to her room, tucking her under the covers, and returning to the living room, where Mallory is lounging on the couch, looking tired beyond belief. "Where's Maddock?" he asks as he plops down beside her, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her onto his lap, pressing a few gently kisses to her neck and playing with the diamond ring on her left hand. The one that matches the ring on his own left hand.

"I sent him to his room," she informs Charlie with a sigh. "I just don't know what to do anymore!"

Charlie chuckles, nipping lightly at her skin. "Let him be and he'll turn out like me."

Mallory snorts. "I don't know if the world needs another Charlie Dalton."

Smiling, Charlie pulls away from her neck and leans back against the couch. "I don't think the world could handle it."

Mal leans her cheek against Charlie's chest and snuggles against him. "I like having the only you that there is."

Charlie grins. "Well that's good, because you're stuck with me."

Mal sighs, smiling to herself. "I guess that's okay, because, you know, I love you and all."

Charlie holds his breath for a moment, like he does every time Mallory utters those three simple, yet amazingly life changing, words. He rubs her back tenderly and presses a kiss to the top of her head. "I love you, too."


End file.
